A gift to Huitzilopochtli
by Samstar1990
Summary: During the Spanish Empire, The Aztec cursed Spain's world to end. but what if that wasn't the earth beneath his feet?
1. Chapter 1

**OK, so this is** **an idea i have had for about half a year and I am finally getting it down on paper and I hope people enjoy it**

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><p>The hurried footsteps on the polished floor of the hotel. Clip clop clip clop, imitating the shoed hooves of mules and cart ponies. The immigrants that worked unseen by the eyes of the boisterous American nation; however his business did not go unnoticed by their eyes. For such details were vital for the events that were about to unfold. A grudge held fast was about to be unleashed.<p>

The countries of the world were gathered within the walls of a New York hotel for the monthly world meeting as this was to be held by America. The self-proclaimed hero had gone all out to once again present the data and statistics of the findings of the countries themselves as well as a few suggestions that to a few was considered a little bit unusable however without the appearance of such classics as GloboMan it couldn't really be considered a world meeting.

In particular the eyes that watched and waited were in fact awaiting the arrival of this day. Their gaze had fallen upon a cursed man through the actions of their ancestors, although his appearance and attitude would never lead you to believe he was indeed cursed. In fact the man in question didn't truly believe himself to be cursed as after all the years that had passed since the time it occurred his life, although rocky at some points, was perfect and nothing could deter his bright spirit on the future.

"Oy! Tomato Bastard!" a quick smack to the back of the head brought the man from his daydream "Spain! Stop spacing out! The meeting is over, can we go already?"

The eyes watched the relationships.

"Oh Roma!" Spain cheered grasping the Italian to his chest "Now that the boring meeting is over, let's go back and take a siesta, si?"

Italy Romano instantly began to squirm away from the Spaniard, beating at the man's chest to release him with a colourful array of language as usual until eventually he grumbled and allowed the man to hold him close, never openly admitting how in Spain's arms was his favourite place.

The two nations walked slowly through the corridors, the paranoia spreading across Romano's skin prickling his arms. He rubbed them and looked around the two of them. The happy go lucky Spaniard turned to his companion frowning a little at the worried look that was currently scaring the Italian's expression

"Roma… are you ok? Oh no, my little tomatito is sick!" Spain cried and Romano smacked him with his folder.

"No I am not…It just feels like we are being watched, ok?"

"See this is why I said to not get involved in the mafia!"

"I run it!" he grumbled under his breath "but that isn't it…"

"Well then, come on!" he grabbed Romano's arm "I need to pack" and with that he planted a kiss to the man's lips taking him by surprise long enough to drag him from the meeting hall.

Back at the hotel where the nations were staying during the meeting it was nearing dinner and after a successful if dysfunctional 3 days of meeting the countries wanted nothing more than to head home. A lot of nations were heading home and had already, apart from a few who had some last minute work to complete, such as reports and other things. Even though the feisty Italian was meant to return with Spain since the harvest season was to be upon them soon, he was stuck doing paper work that his brother had conveniently left to him so he could return home early with Germany. He growled at how he could have even let his brother talk him into doing it in the first place swearing that when he got home he would rip Veneciano limb from limb. The brunette had not even noticed there was someone behind him until two tanned arms draped around him embracing him lovingly. He looked up at the invader of his space and grumbled rolling his eyes. The emerald eyes shone a little sad at the man in the hold.

"You sure you won't be coming back with me, mi amor?" he leant his head on the Italian's shoulder pouting, hoping that his presence would change the man's mind.

"I have to get this done or we are both in for it" Romano growled though internally he wanted nothing more than to shred the paper, jump on that flight to Spain and throw it out the back of the plane like some form of artificial snow. Rejected, the Spaniard sighed.

"Ok…well let me know when you get home, si? I will want to see my little Lovinito"

"Si, si Antonio…" he grumbled at the pet name and turned to watch the man off sighing as Spain entered the yellow New York cab and set off, waving at him like an idiot through the back window until the car turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

It was a good three hours before Romano had completed his work and grumbling to himself over the lonely predicament he was currently in. Gathering up the papers and sliding them into the briefcase he headed straight over to the hotel bar sliding onto one of the leather covered stool and put the briefcase at the side on him calling over the bar staff to fill his order.

"Just bring me a glass of wine…and nothing cheap, I am paying good money for this so I want a good year!"

The man behind the bar nodded and headed over to the store glancing over the rows of bottles he drew out the green glass container and undoing the top in a professional manner he poured it into a glass. He glanced over at the Italian man at the bar and noticed he had become distracted with his phone. The man reached into his pocket and pocket retrieving a small bag containing powder. Slipping it into the wine and stirring it with a cocktail stirrer.

Romano looked up as the man returned with his drink and placed it in front of him. He eyed up the drink, he liked to appreciate his wine so became by smelling it and taking in the bouquet and then sipped it gently. As he drunk he noticed he was beginning to feel tipsy. He shook it off as a long day plus alcohol and finished the glass he blinked a few times finding it hard to keep his eyes open. The feeling of light headedness added with the waves of sleep washing over him he placed his head on the bar hoping to nap a little and then head off for food. The man behind the bar leant over the Italian as he slipped into dreamland. He motioned to a nearby cleaner and maid who walked over and helped to carry the unconscious man out to a more secluded area outside of the hotel of the hotel, The personification was handed to a few men in a large white van whilst inside, another maid took his case and headed to his room using her master key to enter she placed his belonging on the desk and left. The van headed off down the continent and over the border into South America.

A week passed. Italy Veneciano sat on the sofa a look of worry plastered on his face staring at the phone in his hands listening to the soft ticking of the kitchen clock. His brother was meant to come on the flight home the next day but when he got back a day previous expecting a fuming man and flying objects he was greeted with a cold empty house. He jumped as the phone rang and quickly brought it to his ear clicking the green phone.

"Fratello? Where are you? Are you mad at me? Please come home, I won't go to Germany's for a month and-"

"Ita-chan? It's Spain…" the voice replied snapping the Italian from his rambling "S-so…Romano isn't home yet?"

"N-no… so he isn't with you big brother Spain?" both sides of the conversation went silent as the question remained unanswered but it needed no answer. Eventually they both hung up, deciding that the Italian was probably having a small vacation or something.

After a while Spain cradled his phone to his chest and decided to once again attempt to reach the man again. So he went through his contacts and selected Romano's number and then listened to the dial toned until it cut off asking him to leave a message. The man sighed.

"Roma… where are you?"

Over the Atlantic and across the Mexican border was a house grand in design and large in scale. A wealthy family lived there with little communication to the village beyond their walls. They still believed deeply in the ways of their ancestors, willing to carry out the designs left behind by the ones before them, including the wish to punish the one who took everything away from the Aztecs. The house was built around a temple to the gods; the women of the family were currently inside fussing over their next sacrifice. The kidnapped Italian.

He was calm and unaware of what was to come. He was leant into the embrace of a woman he did not know, in a place he had never seen before and yet he was fine, he had no urge to kick up a fuss or to run, when they came and changed his clothes he let them, when they requested to bathe and groom him he felt happy to go along with it. For the past week every day they came and placed him to bed and every day they came and awoke him, though he felt strange, he slept deeply and calmed. He was surrounded by a strange scent they drew him to slumber and encircled by candles they were mesmerising to him and in his mind he could hear a comforting voice whispering to him

"You are safe… you are safe… you are safe… you are safe… you are safe… you are safe…"

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><p><strong>Hi, this is mystmoon uploading for samstar1990 as she has no internet right now, so this won't be updated that quick. She can still get e-mail though, so please let her know what you think through a review!<br>**


	2. Chapter 2

Spain sat on the large overstuffed white sofa, staring lost in his own world at the glass of red wine he held in his hand. Slowly he rotated his hand clockwise, then anticlockwise, distracting himself in how the light would bounce off the liquid's surface.

"Spain? Please mon ami, I would appreciate it if you actually contributed with the conversation" France sighed taking a delicate sip of his own wine treating the glass like a fragile rose "When only one person is talking, it's not a conversation, it's a speech, and I am not the best public speaker"

The green eyes looked up and after a few blinks from the man, the dull olive colour they had set to in his moment of thought melted to an apple green colour as he let a weak smile draw across his face.

"S-sorry France, it's just…it's been…"

"Two weeks I know… still not answering his phone?" France asked, although half of him didn't care. If that finger nails on chalkboard Italian wanted to run away from the greatest man ever then more fool him, Spain would be all his and right now he needed comforting. Slowly he shuffled closer to the sun kissed man and slipped his arm around his waist.

Spain was oblivious to the advances being made on him however "No and I am getting worried, he promised he would call, and regardless of how mad he might be, he would ALWAYS call!" the Spaniard groaned and leant forward, the wine glass somehow not losing a single drop of its ruby elixir onto the snow white carpet.

"Then it is simple Spain, forget about him!" France declared, causing Spain to look at him with disgust "Hear me out, he obviously doesn't care about you in the slightest, you even told me that after you kissed him, he never returned it…maybe this is his way of telling you he is uninterested?"

"But…he never misses the harvest season" Spain whispered, feeling a slight ache in his heart at the possibility that the man he was pining for just disappeared from everyone to get away from him, even his own brother. Wait… "France, do you have Italy's number? I forgot my phone, tell me you have it, por favour!"

France blinked at him and then, reaching across to his table, took the phone from its base and dialled in the number for the North Italy personification. Pressing the green button, he passed it to the man next to him.

Romano was sat outside staring intently at the wall that surrounded the house, his fingers twitched, something inside him told him he should run. As he rose to go over to the wall, a group of women came towards him. He stopped and turned to them, bowing his head a little politely.

"Romano, what were you thinking?" the tallest woman asked, smiling politely. Again the screaming voice in his head- Run! Get out! Run away!

"I was wanting to go home…" he replied, ignoring the voice that was giving him a head ache. The woman frowned and rushed over, her flip flops scuffing across the tiled floor, she placed her hands on his shoulder and, forcing him to look at her, smiled. It was a warm motherly smile and suddenly he felt at ease.

"You know you can't go home yet…" she smiled and slowly led him back to sit where he was. He was confused and when he was sat, he looked up at her.

"But why? Why am I here? I promised I would let people know where I was…" he protested as she slowly drew a small soft hairbrush from her bag.

"I know, I know…and soon everything will be as clear as a summer day, my dear" she seemed to sing as she drew the soft brush through the chocolate coloured hair. She started to sing a small lullaby as she drew the bristles through the Italian mop. Romano tried to make sense of what she was saying but it was strange, the small lullaby with the combination of the brushing through his hair brought on a drowsy sensation, slowly his eyes began to close and just before he drifted off, he felt himself be pulled into the woman's embrace and heard her whispering,

"Our special little Romano…the key to our happiness…"

France had escorted the Spaniard home, believing he wasn't in the right mind to drive himself anywhere without serious injury. Wandering up the garden path Spain sighed, after getting off the phone with Italy his mind was less at ease then before, however at least he knew Romano wasn't hiding from him.

"Thanks for helping me get home, France" Spain laughed a little as he fumbled with the key, finally forcing what he hoped was the front door key into the lock. He sighed happily when the lock clicked open "Erm…you can come in for coffee if you want" he offered, knowing he had some in.

France smiled happily and nodded, following his friend into his own home and sat down on the man's sofa, rolling his eyes at the state of the room, clothing and plates piled high, unfinished work and just general notes and magazine littered the floor. How could one spoilt little brat do this to the man he had grown up with? The man who he had come to love and admire, was a shivering wreck and it's all due to South Italy. He suddenly prayed the man wouldn't return.

"Sorry about the mess" The Spaniard laughed, placing the coffee on a small slither of space on the table "I'll clean it I swear."

"I don't get it."

"W-well you see I got depressed and when I get depressed I can't really will myself to clean and-"

"No I mean why him? Why Romano? Why is he so special" France asked.

"What are you talking about?" Spain replied, confused. He slowly sat down in the chair, noting the change in tone in his friend's voice.

"Romano, Romano, Romano!" he yelled "It's always Romano, but why? He has done nothing but make your life a misery, ever since you were handed him from Austria! He destroyed everything in this house practically! A lot of stuff you know was irreplaceable and yet you still kept him!" The man was suddenly on his feet, pacing around the room. "He has forced you into wars and into bankruptcy and still you let him push you around and dictate your life! He is rude, arrogant, lazy, and highest of all!" He breathed, anger fuelling his rant "The man…is nothing but a bastard child!"

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the room digested what had just transpired.

"Don't ever call him that!"

Both heads turned to see a newcomer or two standing in the door. The tall blond that was Germany was adjusting his shirt whiled the chestnut coloured head male, Italy, was staring daggers at the Frenchman.

"Don't you ever call mi fratello a bastard in any shape or form!" the Italian screamed, rushing forward at the Frenchman. He moved backwards, falling over onto the floor and Veneciano was dragged into the air by Germany.

"Calm down!" the stern man ordered, but the Italian boy was having none of it and proceeded to scream the house down.

"You know nothing of Romano! You and you're fucking perverted ways! He may not be perfect but you're no bastard saint yourself!" The man kicked out and tried with all his might to get out of Germany's grip "He is kind, and thoughtful, and he may not show it very well but he can fucking love!"

"Ita….stop…"

The room went quiet, other than the heavy panting of Italy as he hung in the air, eyes refusing to move from the Frenchman who continued to look terrified, but his focus went to the speaker.

"I can answer your question, mi amigo" The Spaniard rose from his seat, a dark aura emitted from his being that sent a shiver down the spine. He stepped towards his friend.

"Romano is lazy yes… but he made me understand that if life is not lived without a little relaxation, life passes you by" he reached forward and yanked the table towards himself.

"Romano breaks things and is clumsy yes… but he taught me that the most precious things in life cannot be purchased" the table went flying across the room.

"Romano forced me into war AND bankruptcy…but never once did I regret what I did because there is more to life than money!" he grabbed the man be his hair and dragged him up to meet his eye level, venom seeped into every word.

"And he may be rude, and arrogant…but we are all responsible for making him that way, and it takes only the most patient of people, to be able to see the true Romano, the one who laughs… the one who smiles with just the promise of a long summers day…and THAT France…is why it is all about him!" He threw the man into the wall, toppling over several piles of paper and other things. He then strode past the two in the doorway "And I am going to find him" he spoke turning back.

"You're no better now than when you were in South America" the blond coughed. Spain stopped, his back to them all.

"For the country of love France, you have no idea how far you'll go for it"

Spain had gotten half way down the road when he was tackled to the ground; he hit the dirt hard and groaned.

"Ah, I am so sorry, Big Brother Spain!" the voice on top of him squeaked and pulling himself to sit, he blinked

"Italy? Are you following me?" he questioned, getting up and then offering his hand to the younger man. The north Italy personification nodded and gripped the hand, pulling himself up before crashing into the man again in a hug.

"I came to Spain right after you phoned me because I got worried you were alone" he whimpered tears rolling warm against his skin "Where is fratello? Where did he go? Why isn't he back yet?"

Spain sighed and cuddling the younger male to his chest, he stroked his hair in a brotherly manner "I don't know Ita-chan" he sighed and began to think about Romano home safe and sound.

Suddenly the thought was interrupted by what had just happened.

_**You're no better now than when you were in South America**_

South America? He hadn't been to South America since…

_**Damn you Tomato Bastard! W-why are you covered in blood?**_

Oh yeah that's right…

_**It's ok Roma~ it's not my blood**_

From those days

_**Is Gold all that matters to you Reino de Espania? You have killed my people, traded lives for what you consider treasure?**_

The Aztecs… I was blind, nothing but a monster

_**A curse upon the life you lead, may your world be taken from you!**_

A curse?

"Curse…" Spain blinked, still holding onto the male

"W-what?" Italy asked, staring in confusion. The Spaniard looked him in the eye and finally, after a fortnight of gloom, smiled.

"I finally have a clue to where mi amor is!" he cheered and, grabbing Italy's wrist, bolted off along the road heading north.

"What are you talking about?" the chestnut haired male felt his breath hitch as he was taken by surprise, trying to keep up with the man who sprinted with bulls "What clue?"

"We need to talk to someone who knows about curses, and the only two people I can think off live in the north!"

He was happy he could be one step closer to finding the feisty Italian, but at the same time he just prayed this had nothing to do with it…

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><p><strong>Hi, mystmoon92 uploading for samstar1990 again because of her ongoing internet issues. She can still get email though so please review!<strong>

**Bastard child when used in this context decribes somneone who is shunned. In this head canon Italy looks up to Romano, which is why he attacks France**


	3. Chapter 3

Romano found his memories were swirling again. It always happened when he woke up and yet he had come to find it normal. He sat up and looked around the temple were they continued to lay him to sleep. He stretched and yawned and a lazy smile worked its way onto his face.

_You are safe. You are special. You are chosen._

He turned his head hearing the sound of footsteps approaching bringing his knees to his chest still a little drowsy from sleep. He watched as the group of women approached him. He did not know any of the names of the women, all he knew was the one with the long deep brown curls was in charge and she paid a lot of attention to him. He just remembered her as the leader.

The leader stepped forward and brushed her hand through his hair causing a pleased hum from the Italian. He found it odd he didn't question any of this, all he knew was these people treated him well and kept him safe. In a way he felt and was thinking like a child, no worries or cares especially if somewhere safe, he just did as he was told and in return he received praise and reward, to him it was a happy life.

"You have a special visitor today Romano" she spoke in a soft sweet voice and he turned to her opening his eyes even although he hadn't been aware he had closed them.

"Who is it?" he asked looking her in the eyes and smiling gently. The leader turned and motioned to a man in a cloak that covered his clothing. He was a much older man; his hair was greying and swept back. He had a stern expression and the nagging feeling of escape was ignited in Romano as his expression fell, his eyes widened and he began to fidget.

"Hello Romano" he spoke and everything seemed to still the Italian began staring off, detached from the world as a trance seemed to envelope him. The Italian had heard the voice before…

_You are safe. You are special. You are chosen._

The man walked over and lifting the Italian's chin, he saw the vacant look and the dream filled smile he got in return. This at least meant everything was working "Romano don't go back to sleep, I want you to take a walk with me"

Romano snapped back into reality and blinked furiously before looking back up a the man "a-a walk?" he asked not completely sure if he had heard the other

"Yes…I want to talk to you about a proposal" he smiled taking the boy's arm and slowly easing him from the bed began to lead Romano outside as the women fussed over preparing the bed once more

The blond man set the teacup down and looked at the men who had approached him and grumbled a little.

"So…Spain…why did you break down my door this time?" The British tone was full of bitterness as the Spaniard laughed nervously. Any other time he would have enjoyed throwing the man's door off its hinges but this time is was in fact a complete accident and as such felt a little bad about it. Well, not entirely. It was England after all.

"Ingleterra I need your help with something, well I need both of your help" he muttered looking over at Norway who continued to watch them with suspicious eyes. The other Mediterranean nation huddled behind the Spanish nation whimpering

" Ve is this a good idea?" he asked Spain as he gripped onto the man's shirt. The Spaniard winced a little beneath the cold stares of the nations notoriously known for magical business whether you believe in it or not these two are most likely to know. Well there was also Romania, but he was a little scary to talk to, not because he looks like a vampire but because he has an overly friendly attitude coupled with a scary expression it puts you off a little.

"What could you possibly need our help for?" Norway asked arms folded and legs crossed tapping in irritation on his arm

"I need to know about curses" Spain got straight to the point

"More tea?" England asked offering the teapot to the Nordic country who nodded. As he poured he looked to Spain

"Curses you say? Has someone other than myself had the pleasure of putting one on you?"

"Well I don't know but I remember someone cursing me back during my conquest of Southern America" The tanned male openly admitted guilt hitting him like concrete. England took a long sip of his own tea in thought.

"does sound about right you did more or less wipe out an entire nation" Norway spoke with dry tone staring deep into the other's soul, who flinched wondering if this was such a good idea after all "but there must be a reason why you question this curse now"

"Ah Si! Romano won't answer anything we use to try to contact him and last I heard was at the world conference when I left him at the hotel"

"Really is that all?" England asked "the boy has probably just run off in America for a holiday or something which would explain a few things"

Spain and Italy perked up at this the Italian leant forward "did something happen?" he asked unsure about the answer. England looked up.

"Oh it's nothing America was blabbering on about how apparently the room South Italy was using still hasn't been paid for or checked out of so the bill is piling up"

The two Mediterranean nations exchanged glances

"What's America's number?"

Romano was sat alone in the garden confused. The man had come forward asking if he wanted passage to a wonderful place but wouldn't tell him where. Politely Romano had declined saying he really should go running off but couldn't figure out why like a distance memory shrouded in fog. But inside all he knew was the idea of travelling made him want to run again.

Once again the man approached with a sly smile and all the Italian could do was smile warmly in return.

"I apologise for my early conversation however if you ever feel you have changed your mind on the matter though alert one of the ladies you wish to speak to me ok?" he smiled this time unlike before where he had scowled and placed precise statements. Romano felt he reminded him of a kind grandfather and in this thought accidently spoke

"si Nonno"

The man blinked curiously before laughing gently and the boy before him blush embarrassed at the slip "you may call me that if you wish" he responded as the gaggle of women appeared out of nowhere the leader stepping forward and pulling the boy up. "Come now Romano it is time for you to bathe"

Still blushing embarrassed He allowed himself to be pulled up by the many hands he continued staring at the older man who's face had fallen back into the stern expression but he smiled knowing beneath it was a warm grandfather like figure he felt he could trust.

The Leader stayed behind as the crowd of women moved him back into the house beginning to undress him ready for the bath. The Italian allowed them to do as they please until they left him to lie in the scented water surrounded by candles and flowers. It gave him once more time to reflect as he sank beneath the water as he held his breath. The wrong feeling was gone from before. He couldn't even recall why it felt wrong in the first place as he opened his eyes and looked through the water as he blurred the colours outside.

Perhaps tomorrow everything would make sense.


End file.
